More Than Life
by thewaterfalcon
Summary: "But how can I give any child a good childhood...when I don't have a clue what a good childhood is?" As Ginny and Harry find out they are expecting their first child, it becomes apparent that sometimes the deepest scars aren't always physical. Canon compliant.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N_ _This was initially going to be a One Shot. After some consideration, I've decided to publish it as a short story, most likely less than ten, short chapters.  
I don't think the Dursley's get quite enough hate for the way they treated Harry as a child and I wanted to explore a bit into how his mistreatment at their hands could affect Harry as he began the journey into becoming a father.  
I do not forsee any triggers as such, but I will go into detail about neglect and abuse the Dursley's inflicted on Harry._

1.

Ginny blinked, the Healer in front of her was not too much older than herself, provided her judgment was correct. The man in question, a Fergus-something, was talking rather animatedly at present. Ginny knew she _should_ be listening, she had been rushed to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries only a few hours before, following an uncharacteristic faint at a Harpie's training session. Thankfully, a few of her quick-thinking teammates had prevented her from falling hard and doing herself a bad injury by slowing her fall and cushioning the ground before she landed. Even with Ginny's insistence that she was fine, two of her team; Winnie and Maxwell, had hurried her to the hospital regardless.

"Mrs Potter, do you have any questions? You do...understand what I'm saying, don't you?" Ginny realised with a start that the Healer, Fergus, was not only still talking, but obviously expecting answers to his questions.

"Sorry," Ginny blurted, feeling her face warming, realising she'd tuned out after his first three words, although it was hardly surprising when the three words in question had been some of the least she had expected to here.

"It's just a bit much to take in," Ginny continued, talking far faster than she would normally, "You are...sure?"

Fergus smiled, kindly. Ginny noticed the way his eyes crinkled at each side as he did, he looked a remarkably kind man and she somehow knew before he answered, instinctively, that he was indeed definitely sure.

"I ran the test through twice myself, there is no doubt, Mrs Potter." He replied, "We will, of course, support-"

Fergus stopped speaking, all of a sudden, as both he and Ginny's attentions were diverted towards the door of the private room. An irate Harry Potter was now standing, clearly out of breath and red, a crazed look upon his green eyes.

"Ginny!? I had no idea, had that meeting with the Minister and no one came and told me you were here! Can you believe that?" Harry spoke in one long breath, his words merging into one, before he took a few steps forward, almost crashing into Fergus in his haste to get to Ginny's bedside.

"What's wrong? Do they know? How do you feel?" Harry asked in quick succession, his speech refusing to slow to the point Ginny found herself biting the inside of her lower lip to stop herself from laughing at her altogether brilliant, yet at times, terribly useless husband.

 _For Head Auror, he can be so bloody irate,_ Ginny thought with a brief smile, before one glance at her Wizard informed her that it would verge on cruel to keep him in the dark for any length of time _._

"Fergus here," Ginny gestured towards the end of the bed, where a rather awkward looking Fergus was clearly pretending to read the notes upon Ginny's clipboard. At the mention of his name, Fergus stepped forward, thrusting his hand forward to a still frantic looking Harry,

"Mr Potter, it is an honour. I am the Healer that attended your wife upon her arrival today, and I can assure you we did our utmost to make her as comfortable as possible whilst we ran a number of tests to decipher the cause of her sudden collapse."

"Thank you, I appreciate the thoroughness." Harry answered, his voice slightly calmer but Ginny could see the worry had not left his eyes, "Did you get any answers?" The dark haired wizard asked, absentmindedly running his hands through his permanently messy dark hair.

"Yes," Fergus replied, a small smile appearing on his face, "Mrs Potter is aware of everything we are, it's probably best I leave her to inform you alone. Would you like me to let your friends know you're going to be fine?"

"They're still here!?" Ginny cried, feeling equal parts grateful and shocked they'd stayed so long.

"Yes, they…" Fergus coughed, clearing choosing his words carefully, "-have been very vocal about their insistence to stay."

"Gods, yes, please tell them I'm sorry they've spent so long here, they can absolutely go home now my husband has arrived. I would see them but it's probably best if Harry and myself are just ourselves right now." Ginny informed Fergus, guilt washing over her, she wondered if her two teammates would feel put out that she opted not to see them personally, yet she knew right now her main priority involved no one but her; the man she loved; and, _as her left hand instinctively landed on her stomach,_ the small life that they'd created.

Fergus nodded, "Of course, Mrs Potter. I'll be back in a little while, we've discussed a little about _why_ the fainting occurred, but I can get some information for you that explains everything a bit more, it'll be helpful for you both." He said, before briskly leaving the private hospital room, leaving Harry alone with Ginny. She turned her head, her blue eyes meeting his green, and she felt her mouth spread into a wide smile, "So, there's something you should probably know," she began, some of the initial shock had dissipated and pure happiness was settling in its' place.

"I fainted because my blood sugar was a bit low, as well my blood pressure."

Harry frowned, you've never suffered from either of them before have you?" He asked as Ginny felt one of his hands tighten around one of hers, lacing her fingers with his.

"No, I haven't." She answered, squeezing his hand tighter still, "but that's probably because I've never been pregnant before."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

" _Hermione! Ssshhhhh_!" Ginny hissed, her eyes darting in various directions around the muggle coffee shop they were currently sitting in.

Hermione had squealed loudly at Ginny's news, jumping up animatedly and rushing around the small, circular, dark wood table they were occupying, to hug her friend.

"You know," Hermione began, a smile plastered across her face as she spoke, "I suspected that there might be a tiny chance last week…" The witch trailed off, a knowing look on her face, though her smile had diminished none.

"You did not!" Ginny gasped, " _I_ didn't even suspect last week so there's not a chance you did. Brightest witch or not!"

Hermione said nothing, but took a sip coffee from a large, wide rimmed mug, leaving a small layer of foam atop her upper lip. The brunette brushed it away with the back of her hand, a trademark Hermione perceptive look returning after she did.

"So how is my dear brother?" Ginny asked, taking a sip of her own coffee, a decaf.

"Oh, never mind _him,_ " Hermione answered, "How is Harry? I bet he's thrilled."

"He's…" Ginny began, unsure how to put her thoughts, or perhaps a more accurate descriptor would be _worries,_ "I don't know." She added meekly. Hermione frowned slightly, clearly pondering her friend's indirect answer.

"He's not acting excited, is he?" Hermione asked, after a long pause.

Ginny gulped, the acknowledgement of Hermione's words hammering the fact she'd been trying to avoid home. The flame-haired witch gripped her coffee, feeling her hands shake slightly as she internally begged her emotions not to get the better of her. Not trusting herself to speak, Ginny fleetingly shook her head, feeling tears begin to pool in her eyes.

She felt Hermione's hand grip hers as the brunette leaned across the table. Ginny took deep breaths through her nose and tipped her head back slightly, consciously blinking more than was required, the thought of crying in such a public setting not a particularly pleasant one.

Ginny felt Hermione's thumb run small circles over the back of her hand, and found herself more grateful than she ever had to have such a loyal friend in her life.

"I think," Hermione began, "I _might_ know why Harry doesn't seem as happy as you'd expect him to be, and I don't think it has anything to do with you...or the baby." She paused long enough to hand Ginny a tissue before she continued, "I can talk to him if you like, but try not to think about it too much. I think this is entirely to do with Harry's own childhood."

Ginny swallowed, nodding her head, finding a small amount of hope and comfort in Hermione's words. "I don't know _that much_ about his childhood," Ginny said, her voice low. "He doesn't like talking about it at the best of times, but it's sometimes like he has this mental block in place about telling _me_ anything."

Hermione sighed, "I know. And honestly, I wish he would open up to you about it more, I think it's ultimately an issue of pride. You've seen him broken in more ways than he'd like and he likes to be the stronger one. I believe, the way he was raised, _by those dreadful people,"_ she added, a snap in her voice as she did, "makes him feel a kind of damaged he doesn't want to trouble you with."

"That's insane, Hermione. He isn't _damaged."_ Ginny countered, before taking stock to think over Hermione's words, how little _had_ Harry told her about his childhood? "Is he?" She asked in a whisper, feeling tears threatening to spill all over again, this time for an entirely different reason.

Hermione said nothing, her eyes focussed entirely on the mug in front of her. She encircled her hands around its circumference before looking up at Ginny once more, "They were terrible to him, I don't think Ron or I even know everything. Honestly, I think he probably carries more mental scars from his childhood than he has on his physical body."

Ginny took a while to answer, she _had_ tried to engage the subject more than once, Harry almost always brushing the matter off, as though unimportant. She known he'd been made to sleep in a cupboard, this was something the Weasley's had all known for years, and she knew he often was left out of family outings and got very little in the way of birthday or Christmas presents. _That had all been bad enough_ , Ginny thought. Was it really much worse? The question at the forefront of her mind as she took another drink from her coffee mug, the subject of her and Hermione's conversation made the hot drink taste sour in her mouth as she recalled various points over their relationship that she'd uncovered a small snippet of the life Harry had led before Hogwarts and the way he had always dismissed her questions entirely.

Ginny sighed, looking, but not quite seeing the quantity of brown liquid currently sloshing in her mug.

"Do you think he'll talk to me?" The redhead finally asked.

"I think he'll realise, _if he hasn't already,_ that the time has come for him to, yes. I can speak to him, like I said, if you prefer, but I think it really has to be you."

Ginny nodded, knowing Hermione was right, _as always,_ she thought with the hint of a smile.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Of course." The brunette witch answer, she offered her friend a wide, comforting smile before venturing her next question, "Can we _please please please_ start talking about names?"

Ginny laughed in spite of herself, Hermione always knew how to cheer her up. She just hoped she would be able to convince her husband to open up her her further.

"Yes! So, since I lost Arnold, I'd quite like to honour his memory."

"I sincerely hope you're joking, Ginny Potter. Because I will not allow you to name my future nephew - _or niece,_ after a Pygmy Puff!"

"If it's a girl, she could be Arnole." Ginny answered, feigning a look of sincerity and trying to avoid laughing at Hermione's look of utter horror.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N In case it isn't entirely clear, this chapter is entirely a series of flashbacks, that aren't in order._

3.

"I'm so glad you understand Muggle money, because this weird paper stuff is beyond confusing," Ginny spoke quietly, glancing around the supermarket they were currently standing in, checking once more they were definitely out of earshot of any Muggles that might be nearby.

It was unlikely that they would be overheard, considering the time, most Muggles did not frequent their local superstore at almost two am, despite its' twenty-four hour opening.

It had become something of a weekly ritual after Harry had bought the flat. He had asked Ginny to move in before he even had, stating that, finally, after over a decade and one Hogwarts dormitory, numerous holidays at the Burrow then Grimmauld Place, a year in a tent, a further year in Grimmauld Place and eventually a scruffy Muggle flat that was possibly more accurately described as a bedsit, cohabiting with Ronald was officially behind him and it was time for the two best friends to live with their girlfriends.  
It hadn't been long before both parties had come to realise that night time was just as much of a frustrating enigma as it was to each other; neither using the time the land was surrounded in darkness to sleep, both were plagued by harsh memories and bleak reflections of a war they'd been too involved, and lost too much, in. And so together, they didn't sleep; instead choosing to spend the time doing what everyone did during the daylight hours; they cleaned their flat, went for long walks discussing their hopes and dreams, often they'd fly, disillusioning themselves and speeding over the rolling English landscape below, and once a week they did their main food shop.

"It's not really that difficult to work out once you're used to it," Harry replied, answering Ginny's statement about Muggle money, "The amount is written on it."

Ginny nodded, examining the twenty pound note she was currently holding. She looked around the chilled aisle they were currently standing in, her throat dry as she tried to ignore the unintentional guilt she felt affording whatever food she wished. Bending to examine some pizzas, she heard Harry's voice across the aisle behind her excitedly exclaim, "Oh, they have strawberry milkshake," Ginny turned her head, looking at the plastic bottle Harry was holding, the pink liquid swirling slightly at the movement, standing up, she listened to Harry continue, "Once my Uncle Vernon caught me sneaking some milkshake they'd bought for Dudley...I don't think I ate for three days aft…" He trailed off, suddenly flustered, replacing the milkshake hastily and making to move on down the aisle.

Ginny caught his sleeve, "Harry," she began, her voice soft, noticing a red tinge creep onto Harry's neck, "you...you didn't always _eat?"_ She asked, horrified.

"Forget about it, did you choose a pizza?" He said, in one breath, swallowing hard.

xxx

The small, rectangular box was poised between Ginny's hands. Shaking slightly, she ran the pad of her right thumb over the intricate gold leaf pattern on the box's exterior, already aware that this was the most expensive present she had ever been given.  
The necklace inside was beautiful, an elaborate white gold chain lay on a bed of red satin. The chain itself was extraordinary, shaped into numerous vines with tiny, emerald encrusted leaves branching off here and there. Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat as she stared at the piece of jewelry.

"Oh, Harry...I...I don't know what to say."

"Do you like it?" Harry asked, nervously.  
"I _love_ it." The redhead answered, her voice a choked whisper.

It was the first time the couple had exchanged, what Ginny had penned _grown-up gifts,_ since the witch had graduated from Hogwarts only a few months prior and now both she and Harry were out of education. Flickering her gaze between her necklace and her boyfriend, Ginny swallowed, it was Harry's turn to open her gift.

"It's okay...if you don't, like it, I mean. I can return it for something-" Harry mumbled in a rush before Ginny cut him off;

"No, Harry I love it, I promise, it's just...your present is nowhere near as nice and this," she examined the necklace closer, "is so...wow."

Harry bent towards his witch, putting his face so close to hers she could count have counted the hairs of his stubble and looked deep into her eyes before stating matter of factly, "You could give me a pair of old socks, and I'd love them."

Ginny smiled, before leaning in, closing the gap between them, placing a firm kiss on Harry's mouth, before replying, "It's a _tiny_ bit better than old socks, I promise."

"Well, then it's already better than basically every present I got growing up," Harry said, snorting a laugh, before reaching to pick up the wrapped gift at his side.

Ginny didn't join his laughter, there had been no trace of sarcasm in his words she realised, as she recalled a conversation with Ron she'd had a few years before, where her brother had talked about Harry's aunt and uncle, and specifically the ' _bloody crap presents'_ they gave him.  
Forcing herself not to sigh audibly, Ginny looked at the necklace once more, a smile creeping on her face at the beautiful piece, trying not to ponder her boyfriend's admission too much, vowing that never again would Harry Potter ever receive a _bloody crap present._

xxx

A raucous, collective laughter filled the kitchen of the Burrow, since the battle, laughter was few and far between in the Weasley family, but that night wasn't about grief, and loss; but memories and love.

George had been recounting a tale in which he and Fred had successfully persuaded their mother that Percy was responsible for a number of mishaps involving the garden gnomes.

"We kept it up for three years," George was relaying, "pretty sure mum and dad thought Percy had developed an unhealthy attraction to them." He finished to another chorus of laughter.

"You boys," Mrs. Weasley began, a kind smile on her plump face as she reached over from her current position towards the large stove, and ruffled George's hair, "we did find out eventually, though, didn't we?" The matriarch continued, "And what happened to you and Fred when we did?"

"You made us apologise to every gnome individually, took bloody hours!" George concluded.

Later that evening, Harry and Ginny were saying a hurried goodnight on one of the Burrow's staircases, before Harry alighted up a further floor, to Ron's bedroom.

"You okay? You seemed a bit quiet tonight," Ginny queried.

Harry paused for a second, not meeting his girlfriend's eyes, "Yeah, George's gnome story just got me thinking."

"About what?"

"The creative punishments your mum came up with."

Ginny chuckled, "They weren't always like that, we got sent to our rooms often enough too."

Harry let out a sharp exhale of breath through his nose in something of a sigh, "I was lucky if I got sent to my cupboard."

Ginny had very little response to offer, except a comforting smile and her arms snaking around his neck, "I'm sorry," she breathed in his ear.

"Don't be, I don't want sympathy, I just...forget sometimes, how great your family is."

Ginny nodded against Harry's shoulder, before replying, "Your family too."

Harry stayed entirely still for a moment before she felt him echoing her nod, "My family too," he said, softly.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

That afternoon, Ginny walked into the cozy Muggle flat she and Harry lived in, feeling as though a coating of nerves was slowly covering her entire person. Having gone over a dozen or so different conversation starters in her mind over the course of the short walk from the closest train station, Ginny still felt none the wiser on how to broach the subject with her husband.

Checking her watch in surprise, after noticing Harry's work shoes in their designated space at the left side of the hallway, Ginny was shocked to find he was home. He had gone to work that morning and considering the time was currently only just after two pm, Ginny would not generally expect him home for at least three hours.

"Hon? You here?!" Ginny called, her stomach in knots as the realisation dawned over her that the conversation she had been dreading, _that she had believed she had still had some time to prepare for,_ was most likely going to take place very shortly, far sooner than the redheaded witch had anticipated.

"Yeah, through here," Ginny heard Harry reply from what sounded like the kitchen. Kicking her own shoes off, Ginny followed the sound of her husband's voice. As she halted in the doorway. Ginny's eyes glanced around the small room, widening as they fell upon the site of an old t shirt and jogging bottom-clad Harry, his head hidden in the tall refrigerator as he searched the shelves.

"Hi." Ginny said, keeping her voice steady, the unfamiliar, unkempt look of her wizard such an unusual sight that Ginny found herself nervous for a whole new reason.

"Do you want a sandwich?" Harry asked, his head popping out from behind the door of the fridge, his arms full of a mixture of cheese and cold meats, his trademark messy hair for once matching the rest of his appearance.

"Yes, actually, I'm pretty hungry." Ginny answered, her stomach emitting a rather undignified growl at the sight of Harry's collection of fillings. "Harry," she said, watching him close the fridge door and carry the fillings to a pair of already buttered slices of bread.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?" Ginny questioned, her eyes flickering downwards once more, trying for her gaze to not linger on his choice of clothing.

"Yeah, why?" Harry answered, casually as he busied himself with the sandwich task.

"Well," Ginny began, keeping her voice collected, "the last time you wore anything close to," she gestured her hands over his entire body, " _this,_ was last year when you had the flu."

Harry took a bite of his sandwich whilst passing the one he'd made Ginny over to her, "Comfy." He said with a shrug, his voice muffled through the mouthful of food.

"Thanks," Ginny replied, before adding, "It just isn't really _you,_ is all."

Harry raised his shoulders in another shrug.

"I was wondering if we could...talk?" Ginny ventured, tentatively.

"Can it wait? Said I'd meet Ron in a bit."

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Ginny answered, clearly failing to keep her dismay from her face.

"You sure? What's wrong?" A frown creeping onto Harry's face as he examined Ginny's.

"Oh, nothing. Just...hormones or... It's fine, go have fun with my stupid brother."

"I don't have to-"

"No, it's fine, we'll talk when you get home. Try not to be too late"

"Sure," Harry said, walking past her and making her way to the living room. Ginny couldn't help feel a slight nudge of neglect remembered that until recently, _until she'd been in hospital,_ Harry hardly ever welcomed her home or walked past her without at least giving her at least a quick kiss.

xxx

The blanket Ginny had wrapped around herself had fallen from her person as she dozed. When Harry didn't return after three hours, then four, five or even six, Ginny had taken a bath; painted her nails and called a local Muggle takeaway Chinese restaurant to deliver her some food. When Harry had still not come home after she'd finished her meal, Ginny had internally drifted through a multitude of emotions ranging from worry; to fear; to disappointment and finally; absolute fury. How _dare_ Harry do this, he _knew_ she was supposed to be avoiding stress and instead of helping that to be a reality, he was _becoming_ the very reason she was experiencing stress.

Having drifted off as she sat on the couch awaiting his return, Ginny was awoken abruptly by the hearth opposite the couch bursting into a bright, green flame, illuminating the modest living room in a beacon of emerald glow.

Ginny rose to her feet in an instant, having instinctively grabbed her wand. Her demeanor relaxed when she recognised the stooped, dishevelled looking form that had appeared in the fireplace. Her grip on her wand, however, did _not._

Harry slowly made his way out of the fireplace, his right hand held up in front of his face, palm facing a livid-looking Ginny.  
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could be spoken, Ginny cut him off entirely, her shout, she oddly realised, eerily reminiscent of her mother; "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU PLAYING AT, HARRY POTTER? I'M HERE, WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T BE LONG, AND INSTEAD YOU STAY OUT ALL AFTERNOON, HALF THE FUCKING NIGHT AND COME HOME CLEARLY BLADDERED!"

"I...I know, look Gin I just needed some-"

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRYING TO JUSTIFY THIS HARRY! DON'T. EVEN. BOTHER! IN CASE IT ESCAPED YOUR NOTICE I HAPPEN TO BE CARRYING YOUR CHILD AND AM SUPPOSED TO BE AVOIDING STRESS. WELL, LET ME PENETRATE THAT THICK SKULL OF YOURS WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT MY HUSBAND STAYING OUT FOR HOURS ON END IS PRETTY FUCKING STRESSFUL."

Ginny tore eyes from him, stomping towards the door, "And don't even _think_ about coming bed!"

 _A/N Try not to hate me just yet!_


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Ginny awoke the next morning slowly and comfortably as she rolled happily over, pushing her head back into her pillow, she let out a soft moan of pleasure as she became aware of Harry's fingertips brushing softly over her arm.

"I made you breakfast in bed," Ginny heard Harry whisper into her ear.

"Mmmm, you didn't have to-." Ginny stopped, mid-sentence as the memories of the previous night flashed in front of her eyelids. _Oh, Hell No!_

Ginny's eyes opened suddenly, as she simultaneously lunged the arm Harry had been stroking backwards, hitting him in the stomach. _Good._

"Breakfast?" She began, seething, "You really thought breakfast would make up for last night's little stunt, did you?" By this point, Ginny had sat up and turned to face her rather sheepish looking husband, her face as thunderous as her tone of voice.

"No, no of course not. But I thought breakfast; followed by a morning of shopping in that little part of Muggle London that you love; followed by lunch at _the_ cafe; and then whatever you want, _might_ be a start at earning my way out of the doghouse." Harry responded and Ginny looked at him; hangovers did not serve Harry well and considering the fact he currently looked worse for wear than Ginny had ever seen, gave her a small amount of pleasure.

The redhead narrowed her eyes, her expression softened the smallest fragment as she breathed deeply, psyching herself up for what she knew she had to say; "How about we skip to the ' _whatever I want'_ part?"

"Of course," Harry replied, "What would you like to do? I could always make it up to you in...another way." Ginny watched as he scooted closer to her, braving the continuation of his stroking of his fingertips over Ginny's arm.

"Not that, Harry," Ginny said, firmly. "What I want, no, what I _need_...is to know what the hell is going on with you."

The change in her husband was instantaneous, his eyes left her face and drifted downwards to the bedcovers, she watched him swallow, before he nodded and said; "I do owe you that."

Ginny's heart began to beat fast, she tried to remember Hermione's comforting, yet disturbing news, yet she found her mind filled with Harry's voice, telling her he didn't want children; no longer loved her, or had found someone else.

Ginny prided herself on the fact that she had an incredible amount of mental strength, but in that moment every fear, insecurity and, _arguably hormone-induced,_ worry was thrust to the forefront of her mind as Ginny Potter burst into uncharacteristic and uncontrollable sobs of uncertainty.

It took her a long couple of minutes to calm down, and Harry an even longer minute before he began to speak, his green eyes meeting hers, and despite her still present rage, Ginny instinctively grabbed both of his hands, encasing them in both of hers.

"Gin, I love you more than life, you _know_ that."

Ginny waited for him to carry on and when his words didn't come, Ginny couldn't help but voice her deepest current fear; "But you don't love this baby?"

Harry's face jerked to her own, his mental pain evident, "Is that really what you think?"

"Harry, I honestly don't know _what_ to think."

"I love this baby, already. Ginny, I promise you that," he said, his eyes never leaving hers, "But how can I give any child a good childhood...when I don't have a clue what a good childhood is?"

Ginny felt as though a weight had all at once deflated and lifted itself from her shoulders; "Oh, my love." She felt herself push herself to a kneeling position and threw her arms around Harry's neck, all her previous animosity forgotten as she felt silent tears land on her arm, and marvelled at Hermione's intuition she should never for a second have doubted.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N_ _I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm absolutely loving writing Ginny (I'm a Pansy writer through and through), but oh, the more I write her, and the more I think about her, the more I love her. Let me know if I'm doing a good job with her!_

6.

It had taken four hours, countless refills of their teapot, one trip to the corner shop for chocolate and half a box of tissues before the couple finally felt they were in a state of complete honesty.

 **xxx**

" _That's definitely one of my earliest memories, she took the car off me and gave it to Dudley, hitting it off the back of my head as she did. I think that was the first time I realised how much Dudley had come to like taking anything I had off me."_

" _He sounds like such an arse."_

 _Harry sighed, pausing to sip his tea before replying, "Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if he'd have been different, had my aunt and uncle not acted, you know, the way they did."_

" _I bet he would have," Ginny replied, softly._

 **xxx**

" _What about your parents? Didn't your aunt ever want to talk about them? Your mum was her sister, despite everything._

" _Never," the subject was basically banned. They liked to rub it in, though, especially with Vernon's family._

" _What, they mocked it?"_

" _It, them, the fact my dad 'couldn't drive a car'," Harry answered, air quoting the last four words, his face full of a blatant bitterness._

" _Drive a car?"_

" _That's what they said happened to them, that they died in a car crash."_

" _Oh," Ginny replied, sadly, as she wondered, yet again, if she'd heard the worst._

 **xxx**

" _She sounds nice," Ginny said, encouragingly._

" _Yeah, but there's only so many times you can look at pictures of the same dead cat, you know?_

" _Yeah, I imagine that got old, fast."_

 _Harry chuckled, darkly. "It did, but she was a nice enough woman, and she did watch over me for all those years. She was a squib, did I mention that?"_

" _Yeah babe, you did."_

" _Ah," Harry nodded, more to himself than Ginny, "When I went back, after the battle, to pick up what things I had there, I saw the funeral car outside her house. Just one, and two people get in it. So I disillusioned myself and followed on my broom."_

" _I didn't know that," Ginny spoke, feeling tears begin to pool in her eyes,_

" _Well, I never told anyone." Harry said, simply, before continuing with his story, "The church was so empty, Gin. I guess that, even though she technically helped the Order, no one felt they knew her well enough to go, or tell me, for that matter" he added, bitterly, "or maybe they didn't know, I never actually found out."_

" _I'm glad you were there," Ginny whispered, her fingers lacing with Harry's._

" _Me too."_

 _Silence followed Harry's latest tale, neither speaking or moving at all, the pad of Ginny's thumb was rubbing the back of her husband's hand._

" _She crocheted," Harry finally spoke._

" _That's nice, mum could never get the hang of crochet, even magically."_

 **xxx**

 _Ginny's hand rested protectively over her stomach, the stage of pregnancy was far too early to feel any sort of bump, but Ginny had already become accustomed to placing her palm against her stomach, knowing that somewhere close by, a tiny little life was growing._

 _Looking up, she noticed Harry's eyes were gazing at the hand she's positioned over her navel. She smiled as her hand left her belly and reached for Harry's own, pulling it toward her and carefully placing his hand where hers had been moments before._

" _Tell me," Ginny said, her voice hushed, "What you're most afraid of."_

 _Harry didn't answer straight away and Ginny felt each of his fingertips moving softly in unison, drawing invisible circles over her top._

" _I...don't want his, or her, childhood to be like mine. What if I'm just like...what if I just can't." He replied, his voice slow and his face pained._

 _Ginny smiled, if it hadn't come from such a tragic situation it would have been laughable, Harry Potter, the boy who'd risked his life every year from the age of eleven for nothing but everything that was good, and light. And she told him so._

" _Harry, you freed me from possession when you were twelve, fighting a giant bloody snake to do so, no less, you were Dobby's greatest friend because you were the first person to show him any kindness, you led the DA when you were fifteen, to help us all be able to fight for good, you forgave, and saved Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! You hate bullies and inequality and hate. In all honesty, you're probably going to be a better parent than I am."_

" _That's not possible," Harry replied, leaning over to give his wife a quick kiss._

" _Oh, and you also saved the world," Ginny said, pointedly._

" _Well, that's true," Harry answered, and Ginny was relieved to see some of Harry's humour shining through._

 **xxx**

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Ginny was saying, a few hours later. She was positioned on their large, squashy sofa, her head leaning back against Harry's chest whilst his hands gently massaged her shoulders, "but, I think you need to. Not for me, or the baby, but for you."

"Maybe you're right, it's just not a very appealing prospect."

"No, it isn't," Ginny agreed, grabbing each of his hands in hers and pulling them forward and around her chest. "But we'll go together, I promise, they're going to have me to answer to."

"I don't envy them," Harry said with a small snort, as he nuzzled against Ginny's flaming hair, planting a chaste kiss on the back of her head.

"I love you, do you know that?" She heard Harry ask.

"Do you really? I had no idea."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N_ _-_ _I apologise for the delay in updating, October has been absolutely crazy for me!_

 _Okay, I really get it, I messed up on Ginny's eye colour! I usually always check all the little details but for some reason, this time, I just didn't and I have no idea why._ _Once More Than Life is complete it will go through a more thorough editing phase and this will be corrected in the earlier chapters, from now onwards Ginny's eyes will be brown._

7.

"I'm not sure, Gin."

"I know you're not, but I am," Ginny answered, firmly. They were standing on the corner of a Muggle street, the identical houses and square front gardens offered no distinguishability from each other. Ginny wrinkled her nose and shot a sideways glance at her husband, noticing the way his features seemed to have stiffened as, behind his glasses, a pair of bright green eyes had fixed themselves on one house in particular, a short way down the street. Ginny watched him swallow hard and instinctively reached for his hand with one of her own, joining them in the solidarity she knew he needed.

"This is," Ginny began, examining their surroundings, "far too _normal_." The red haired witch spoke the last word with such an air of unenthusiastic disdain that it actually caused Harry to let out a short, low chuckle.

"What?" She enquired, granting him another sideways glance.

"Petunia would take that as a massive compliment."

" _Normal_ is a compliment?"  
Harry snorted, "It is to her."

"Stupid woman," Ginny remarked simply, yet fiercely, earning another small laugh from her husband.

The couple began to walk down the street, a sign to their left read Privet Drive, and Ginny found herself imagining a young boy with messy hair. _Did he play here? Run around with a ball? Annoy the occupants of the neighbouring, identical houses?_ It was a far cry from the Burrow and had a distinct lack of gnomes and wild overgrown evergreens that Ginny couldn't help but associate with her own childhood.

Ginny knew that the street itself, and the majority of the people who resided within it, were most likely as pleasant as any other in England, yet she couldn't help but feel a clear-cut dislike of the place, knowing that Harry had spent many long, lonely years here with no one but some batty old cat-mad neighbour to offer a kind word. She felt her right hand gently touch her, as of now still flat stomach as they approached the gate that led to number four.

The path to the front door was lined by perfectly symmetrical flowerbeds, a deliberate uniformity was present down to the placing of each individual flower. Ginny's gaze raised, to examine the exterior of the property, no distinguishing features separating the house from its multiple neighbours.

As the pair walked up the path, both coming to a natural halt in front of the door to number four, Ginny felt the grasp Harry's hand had upon her own tighten briefly, turning her face to meet her husband's steely gaze, Ginny recognised the determined mask he'd settled his features into, and shot him both a fleeting smile of support and a single nod of conviction, which Harry emulated. She watched him closely, observing the subtle ways in which his nerves surfaced. His swallowing seemed forced, and somehow rushed; a slight flare to his nostrils as he breathed just a touch harder and faster than his norm and the coating of determination that now covered his striking green eyes. A deep breath filled into her husband's lungs as he quickly, as though worried he may not follow through, his hand left hers and the pad of his index finger met the small circular button of the doorbell.

It took less than five short seconds for the door to be pulled open, just enough for a mop of blonde hair which sat atop a pointed face to appear, a large 'O' of surprise almost immediately plastered upon it, which also featured, Ginny couldn't help but notice, a large set of teeth, which looked as though they would protrude outwards regardless of whether their owner's mouth was open or closed.

For a fleeting moment, Ginny found herself wondering whether this venture was fruitless, the red headed witch often thought herself a reasonable judge of character, for the most part, and even without the knowledge of Harry's personal history and relationship with this woman, Ginny was fairly certain she would have wanted nothing to do with the individual standing in the doorway of number four Privet Drive.

 _This is for Harry,_ Ginny reasoned with herself, cursing the momentary lapse in her confidence, reminding herself that, considering what Harry had told her of Petunia's feelings towards the Wizarding Community, it was entirely plausible that Petunia was currently mere seconds away from being turned into a large dairy cow. Smirking at the thought, Ginny shot a sideways glance at Harry whilst gently nudging his side, willing him to speak to his aunt.

It seemed to have worked, she had become aware of her wizard tensing his body the very moment the door began to open, remaining in the same state of tension as Harry cleared his throat and said a very direct and cold, "Petunia."

Ginny knew from his tales of the past that Harry had always titled Petunia with 'Aunt Petunia', and from the fleeting narrowing of the blonde woman's eyes, Ginny was certain she was not the only woman present to notice the change.

Petunia opened the door a touch further, allowing more of her neck, which Ginny noted there was rather a _lot_ of, to crane around the street, her eyes darting to the closest houses to her own, before giving Harry a curt nod and Ginny a sharp, unreadable look. Ginny watched the woman's eyes scanning her face and briefly resting upon Ginny's long, ginger hair before she opened the door enough for the couple to step into the house.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N_ _I'm dreadfully sorry for the gap between updates, I've had a bit of a rough run lately, personally, and everything is a bit up in the air. More Than Life_ _will_ _be finished in the next few weeks though, I promise.  
Anyway, here is the long-awaited reunion with Petunia and Vernon!_

8.

The hallway of number four, Privet Drive, was very plain, and very beige. Ginny looked around, a slight wrinkle on her face she smugly knew was most likely annoying the other woman. As her eyes swept the vicinity, Ginny couldn't help her eyes drawing themselves to a small,irregular shaped door on the right-hand side, irregularly shaped because its' top was slanted, diagonally, in line with the stairs situated behind it. The door itself was nothing out of the ordinary, it was painted the same cream colour as the skirtings and bannisters, and was relatively unassuming, in fact, had Ginny not sought it out, whether consciously or not, she was fairly certain she would not have given the door any sort of glance.

But the door, or rather the minute space that lay beyond the door, _was_ important, as it was one in a long line of reasons for the Potters' visit. And so, Ginny's brown eyes scrutinised the door, that had, at one point in time, housed her husband's sleeping arrangements, feeling a white rage bubble just below her surface as she did.

Forcing her gaze away from the cupboard door, Ginny looked swiftly between the two standing figures, neither were moving, or speaking, and, what Ginny originally thought would be, _difficult, certainly_ , but natural, yet very accusatory, conversation, had not only _not_ started, but seemed to have somehow already descended into awkwardness.

 _Well, this won't do._

"Hello, Petunia," Ginny began, caring not to keep a frostiness from her voice that she knew her mother would have been proud of, given the circumstances, "my name is Ginny, I'm Harry's wife, and we felt it was important that Harry got the chance to talk to you about...certain things."

She would have known that Harry had stiffened as she spoke so brazenly, even if she hadn't felt it. But, Ginny realised, she did not care. She knew he would have gone his whole lifetime without seeking the Dursleys' out, and although she knew it seemed partly cruel, to bring him back to the place that had invoked so much misery, Ginny reminded herself of the one surety she had, Harry _needed_ this.

Neither Harry nor Petunia spoke at Ginny's words, but another had spoken, concealed through another door, this one on their left, that led, Ginny could only assume, to the family's living room.

"Petunia?" The voice boomed, and even if Ginny had heard nothing of Vernon Dursley, she would have guessed straight away that the owner of the Merlin-awful boom was that of a large gentleman. "Who's there? If it's to do with the damned windows you can tell them not to bother coming back."

"It's not the window cleaners, Vernon, it's…" the tall, bony woman trailed off as she cleared her throat, turning to a still stationary Harry, and a still glaring Ginny, she motioned her head towards the living room door, "You'd both better come through," she said, shooting a nervous glance towards the front door as she did.

 **xxx**

"Abuse?!" an irate Vernon Dursley cried, his large arms flailing as he did, his eyes were narrowed and staring daggers at Ginny, who was glaring right back, "We never gave the boy abuse, we took him in,-"

"-into your hall cupboard!"

"-fed him,-"

"-not always!"

"-clothed him,-"

"-in his cousin's old clothes!" Ginny interrupted, bolstering every point that Vernon made, her voice had began the conversation, if it could be called such, in as calm a tone as she could muster, but her volume and pitched had quickly heightened to a shriek as the back and forths continued.

"Now, listen here, you idiotic _girl,_ " Vernon sneered as he spoke the last word aloud, his mouth twisting grotesquely, "I will not tolerate being spoken to in this manner in my own home!"

"Oh ye-"

"You know what," an, up until now, silent Harry interrupted his wife, rising to his feet with his outburst, green eyes blazing as he stared at his uncle, "you _will_ be spoken to like this, because for years, I went through shit in this godforsaken house! I might have had to put up with it for years, but I will not stand for you insulting my pregnant wife, you don't _ever_ insult her!"

Ginny gasped, Petunia made a strangled choking sound and Vernon didn't make a sound, instead puffing himself up more, resembling a robust, grumpy walrus as he gaped, clearly dumbfounded at his nephew's outburst.

"Pregnant?" Petunia whispered, eyes wide, speaking for the first time since they had entered the living room, her beady eyes darting between him and Ginny.

"That's right, and don't worry, you _will not_ be the last living relatives if anything were to happen to us."

"That is not what I-"

"I don't care," Harry interrupted again, still on his feet, the finger he had been pointing at Vernon now swivelling around to Petunia, "I don't care what you meant, or what you were going to say, I'm here because I want, no, I need, to let you know what a pair of abusive fucks you really were."

Petunia did not answer, Ginny was watching Harry intently, he rarely swore; Ron did regularly, and even Hermione was known to mutter obscenities from time to time, Ginny let out swear words far more often than she would admit, but oddly, despite having something of a loose temper at points, it was incredibly rare for Harry to utter such words, and Ginny didn't know whether to be proud, or worried, wondering whether this visit would turn out to be the healing that Harry needed after all.

"I just need to know…. Do you regret it? Any of it?" Harry asked, and Ginny watched his eyes, knowing it was directed entirely at Petunia, Vernon, it seemed, was possibly a lost cause entirely.

Petunia, yet again, did not speak, but gulped, audibly.

"Err, hon," Ginny interjected, sensing they would not be staying much longer, "where's the loo?"

"Top of the stairs," Harry muttered, "you okay?"

"Yeah, back in a minute. You aren't going to deny a pregnant woman use of your facilities, are you Vernon?" Ginny added, narrowing her eyes at the man, before swiftly getting up and exiting the room, not bothering to wait for his response.

 **xxx**

"I'm so proud of you," Ginny said, shooting Harry a sideways glance as they walked down a nearby avenue, which led to a park that Harry hoped would be empty enough for them to apparate from.

Harry didn't reply straight away, instead smiling at his wife as he took her hand in his own, lacing her fingers through his, "I'm quite proud of me too," he eventually said, his voice quiet, but lighter than it had been in weeks. "I _know_ they haven't...damaged me, I guess. It was them, not me, nothing I did."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand, she didn't yet know what, if anything, Petunia had replied to Harry's questioning, but when she had returned from the bathroom, Harry was calm once again and offered her a kind smile as she re-entered the room.

"Want some food?" Harry asked, and Ginny felt a hunger clawing at her stomach she hadn't realised was there,

"Sure, babe."

"Good, I'm starving, need a pee, too, should have gone before we left, but I didn't really fancy staying there a minute longer than I had to."

"Oh, you wouldn't have wanted to use their toilet," Ginny answered.

Harry shot his wife a sideways glance, a small, confused smile creeping onto his face as he did, "and why would I not have wanted to use their toilet, Gin?"

Ginny pushed her shoulders back, and began to quicken her pace as the park came into view, before, voice steady, she replied; "because the next time someone uses it, it'll blow up."


	9. Chapter 9

9.

"You don't even know if it is a boy, Ronald, and besides, he, _or she,_ may not even _like_ Quidditch," Hermione teased, smirking at her husband, who had, until moments ago, been discussing the absolute importance that Ginny and Harry's baby be bought his first toy broomstick no later than his first birthday, _and even that might not be early enough,_ and seemed to rather enjoy the reprimanding his wife was giving him.

" _His_ mother is a professional player, and his father was the youngest seeker in a Century," Ron pointed to his sister, and best friend respectively, before concluding with a firm nod at Hermione's face, "he, _or she_ , is going to love Quidditch."

Hermione did not answer, but narrowed her eyes, muttering something which, to Ginny, sounded remarkably Molly-esc, something which made the red-haired witch chuckle. Hermione and her mother-in-law were of course very different, but seemed to hold the same look of annoyance when presented with a well-argued point which was not in their favour, especially when the point in question came from a ginger wizard.

"Hermione, I absolutely _hate_ to side with my brother here, but I don't think there's a whole lot of chance this one," Ginny patted her growing bump affectionately as she spoke, "will dislike Quidditch, in fact, considering I seem to spend the majority of my time being _beaten_ from the inside, I know what position I'd put money on him playing one day."

The four friends were sitting around Harry and Ginny's dining table, an assortment of takeaway containers piled in the corner between Harry and Ron, four plates all but licked clean, and one solitary remaining piece of naan bread was lying in the middle of the table, Ginny wondered, amused, how long it would be before her brother demolished that one, as well as the three he had already eaten along with his curry.

The dining table was, in fact, the only clear piece of furniture in the property, Harry and Ginny's new property, to be exact, which was in the form of the converted barn they had purchased a few weeks prior, after deciding their beloved flat, and first place home they had made together, wasn't as suitable for an infant as a house might be.

The barn, or to give its' official title, _Bright Star House,_ was situated on the outskirts of London, with easy access into the city, whilst remaining firmly in the countryside. The house had four bedrooms, and even an ensuite attached to the master bedroom, which, had persuaded Ginny far more than she cared to admit.  
It was, as her father had put it after his first visit, _splendidly quirky,_ and, as she stretched her arms above her head and leaned back in her chair, her gaze moving away from the others, sideways, over to a set of French doors that led to one of the two gardens the house had, both of which the witch planned to plant an assortment of wildflowers in, as well as house a number of gnomes as soon as possible, Ginny felt confident that their baby, as well as any other children she may bear them, would grow up happy here.

"D'you two wan' anyfin' else done, t'nigh?" Ron asked, his voice obscured due to the large bite he'd not long taken of the remaining naan bread.

Both Ginny and Harry looked around the large, open-plan kitchen-living-and-dining room, and, without even checking with the other first, shook their heads with a long breath, a swift glance at Harry showed Ginny that his feelings on the matter matched hers, they were definitely doing nothing else tonight, except passing out in a bed that wasn't even made.

They bid Hermione and Ron both gratitude and goodnight soon after, then Harry levitated a number of bags that had taken residence on the sofa. It was all Ginny had in her to collapse onto the red, fabric sofa and attempted to position herself comfortably, a feat not easily managed when over eight and a half months pregnant.

The couple remained on the couch, neither feeling any implication to retreat to bed, made or otherwise, Ginny's legs were lain across Harry's, his hand on top of hers and resting gently atop her protruding stomach, a feeling of absolute relaxation overtook Ginny, whose eyes began to droop, until a tightening in her stomach jolted her straight into consciousness.

"Nnnnarf," the redhead huffed to herself, not loud enough to wake Harry, who was already snoring, the tightenings had been happening on and off, for the past week, and, Ginny was assured from her Muggle midwife, mother and Hermione, who was now a leading expert on all things pregnancy, having used Ginny's childbearing condition as an excuse to research an entirely new topic, were perfectly normal.

"Oh!" Ginny said, who, after an hour and a half was becoming very much aware that the tightenings were beginning to feel a lot less like tightenings, and a lot more like something else.

"Hon…" Ginny prodded Harry gently, rousing her husband awake. Harry blinked, blearily, his glasses slightly squint and his hair inexplicably messy, "so, I'm going to need you to get something, okay?"

"Gin, I love you more than life, but I don't even know where I could buy ice cream this late here, and I mean, I'll try, but I think I'm too tired to apparate properly, probably splinch my bits off or something," he ended with a tired snort, his green eyes automatically beginning to close again.

Ginny, her patience wearing as another contraction engulfed her stomach, prodded Harry again, harder this time, "I do _not_ want ice cream, you idiot, you need to get my hospital bag!"

Harry spent a few second blinking at his wife before moving, this time, very much wide awake.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

"Remember the breathing, Gin. You _have_ to do the breathing; come on baby, breath in, like this;" at his instruction, Harry demonstrated by taking a deep breath, making a gasping _heeee_ sound as he di.. Despite the way the pain of contractions were gripping her there was a small part of her somewhere within, that wished more than nothing that she could take Harry's breathing instructions, and shove them promptly up his behind, "and out, _haaaaaaw."_ He finished, his brow furrowed, and his glasses askew.

"I'm not a bloody donkey!" Ginny cried, grasping Harry's right hand in her left as she rode out her latest contraction.

"Well now, how are we getting on?" A strange, and chipper voice called out from the general direction of the room's door.

"Oh, I'm having a ball," Ginny retorted, glaring at the mediwitch, who didn't reply, instead let out a small chuckle, which caused Ginny to narrow her eyes at the woman further, and cast a quick diagnostic spell, and simultaneously examining a the clipboard that had hung from the end of Ginny's bed.

They were in London, in a new, fairly small, magical clinic that existed to take some of the stress from St. Mungo's, where the strain of delivering the rising number of magical babies, which had been on a significant increase since the war. There were only ever a few Healers on duty here, as the place was staffed primarily by mediwitches who had undergone specialist further training into childbirth, from both a Muggle, and magical perspective.

"How much longer do you think it will be?" Harry asked the woman, who had introduced herself as Maggie, a fact Ginny had had absolutely zero desire to know.

"You're close now, Mrs Potter, nine centimetres, I'd say, a few more contractions and you're going to start pushing" Maggie replied, her voice beaming with positivity.

"Gin, are you sure you don't want your mum here? Because now is when I'd need to call her, you're going-"

But _what,_ or where, exactly Ginny was _going,_ according to her husband, would remain unknown, as, at that moment, Ginny cut Harry's train of words mid-sentence; "Harry Potter, if you even _think_ about calling my mother right now I will name this child Goosfraba, and divorce you! Oh, holy shhh-" Ginny trailed off, unable to make any further noises as the contraction took hold.

"Okay, Mrs Potter," Maggie began, having now seemingly taken up permanent residence with her head examining Ginny's privates, "on the next contraction, I want you to push into your bottom, okay? This is it."

"It? But, I'm only nine," Ginny said, suddenly in a panic as she realised tears were streaming down her face, "you said I was only nine, I'm not ready, I.." she finished, unable to speak any longer, as fear gripped her, turning her head to face Harry, Ginny found his green eyes with her own, and, between staggered breaths, managed to croak; "I can't do it."

"Gin, you are one of the only people in the world that can do anything, look at me," he said, as Ginny turned away, her sudden fear overwhelming, she turned her head quickly back to face him, "you're going to do this, you're already _amazing_ at this."

Ginny had no time to respond, as the familiar pain was already appearing again, she felt Harry's hand tighten around her own, and somewhere, Maggie was informing her to push. But Ginny was otherwise unawares, the pushing was _bloody awful,_ she remembered that much, but everything that came in between was lost.

 **xxx**

"Do we have a name?" Maggie asked, kindly, as she took one last measurement of their son, how big his head was, apparently, before placing the small, naked bundle to rest against his mother's bare chest once more.

"Not yet," Harry answered, his voice quiet and his eyes red. Ginny tore her eyes away from her son for the first time since his birth, ten minutes prior, to look at her husband.

"Yes, he has a name," Ginny said, a dreamlike happiness seemed to be resonating around them as she spoke, she rarely remembered feeling as content as she did now, "his name is James Sirius Potter."

At her words, the stream of tears that had fallen from Harry's eyes began to fall again, and he replied, huskily, as he stroked her hair with one hand, and James' with his other, "I love you, both of you. More than life."

 _A/N_ _And that's it, More than Life, technically my first multi-chapter fic, is finished! I've been overwhelmed by the popularity of this one, for a tiny idea, MtL has done remarkably well!  
I am incredibly grateful to all of you who followed this with me, to everyone who has reviewed and read, thank you._


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